Black Hearts
by inkstainedfingers97
Summary: Fic exchange prompt: Lisbon's phone doesn't ring in "Black Hearts" when she's talking with Jane on the couch, allowing them to finish their conversation, which takes an interesting turn.
1. Chapter 1

Fic exchange prompt: Lisbon's phone doesn't ring in "Black Hearts" when she's talking with Jane on the couch, allowing them to finish their conversation, which takes an interesting turn.

Rating: T for language and non-explicit sexual situations

Spoilers: Through 6x21, Black Hearts

Disclaimer: If you believe I am making money off this, please allow me to refer you to the credit holders on my student loans. I'm sure they will disabuse you of this notion right quick.

A/N: Well, I'm a little late to the fic exchange party, but half agony and hope graciously agreed to let me come anyway. When I picked the prompt for the fic exchange, I thought, great! I'll write something short for once. But then I remembered I always had this half formed intention of writing a tag to Black Hearts that focused on the fact that Lisbon's decision to go to DC was so clearly and blatantly a reaction to the whole scene with Jane and Ridley in the hospital and everything that went with it. So I thought (uneasily), well, I guess I could try to combine the prompt with that idea. Ahem. 30 pages later...sigh. I guess I just need to accept that brevity is not my strong suit. On the plus side, I finished something in less than a month! It's a Christmas miracle.

This is a two shot.

xxx

 _The job's yours…if you want it_.

She didn't know what she'd been expecting when Abbott called her into his office, but it hadn't been this. When she walked in, she'd found Marcus already seated in one of his guest chairs, his face alight with anticipation. She hadn't had time to do more than send him a questioning look before Abbott had informed her they were expecting a call from the D.C. office and the video conferencing system had flashed the alert for an incoming call.

The next thing she knew, she had an offer for a job with the major crimes unit in D.C., gift-wrapped and handed to her, no questions asked.

When the call ended, Lisbon walked out of Abbott's office, her head swimming.

Suddenly, the issue of Marcus's invitation to move across the country with him had taken on unexpected urgency. She had been thinking about it, of course. Outside of work, the decision had consumed her every waking thought for the better part of the last several weeks. But now, belatedly, she realized she'd been considering it as a sort of idle, hypothetical fantasy. A kind of daydream, something that was nice to think about but didn't have any immediate bearing on reality. But Marcus had been waiting patiently for an answer and now she had a job offer. The need to give him an answer pressed in on her with new immediacy. Other people's lives would be impacted by her decision, and it wasn't fair to string him—them—along indefinitely.

She was acutely aware of Marcus behind her, his hand gentle on her elbow.

She yielded to the gentle pressure on her arm and turned to face him, resisting the instinct to shield herself from him while she marshalled her thoughts.

"So…" he said eagerly. "What are you thinking?"

She didn't know what she was thinking. Her mind was a buzzing, empty blank. "I…don't know yet," she said honestly.

"Well, Abbott's right—it's a great job," he said with a hopeful smile. "Don's the best."

She couldn't help but be charmed by his efforts to sell her on the offer. He was so damn sweet. She smiled. "I believe you." She wanted to offer him more, but the words remained stuck in her throat. Her smile faded and she looked down, ashamed of her inability to give him freely what he so clearly and desperately desired.

He gave her an earnest look. "Teresa…I've been patient." He exhaled a deep breath. "I kinda went out on a limb for you. I pushed Don to pass on another candidate so I could have you with me in D.C. I mean, I know it's a big decision… but it's a decision you need to make."

She knew he was right. She just needed a little more time to think, and then she'd make a calm, rational decision like a normal human being.

"Morning, Lisbon." The sound of Jane's voice, tighter and more clipped than usual, jarred Lisbon from her thoughts.

She turned to look at him, disoriented, only to see his gaze fixed on malevolently on Marcus. Jane jerked his head in the tiniest nod of acknowledgment. "Pike," he greeted the other man coolly.

Oh, yeah. She was totally going to be able to make a rational decision about this now.

Xxx

The database was thwarting her.

She'd been trying a tried and true method of coping with intense emotional situations—burying herself in work. And truthfully, avoidance wasn't even the primary motivation. She was well aware of the clock metaphorically hanging over her head, an ever present reminder that if they didn't solve this case quickly enough, over two dozen young women were almost certain to lose their lives. But now the database was thwarting her.

She'd sat down determined to trace the owner of the truck used to traffic the girls to the Cassimi brothers through the complicated morass of leasing documents, shell companies, and various other legal documents. She'd been making good progress, too. But the latest query Wiley had given her was taking forever to run. While she stared at the spinning wheel on her screen, her thoughts inevitably skated back to the offers before her—one for a new job, and one for a life with a man who loved her.

She let her fingertips stray to the cross around her neck. Objectively, both of the offers at hand were a good deal. A great job and a wonderful, affectionate man. So what was in her way?

Jane.

She knew it, down at the bottom of her heart, in a place deeply buried and ruthlessly suppressed. She'd been resisting the fact for…well, it felt like forever, but particularly over the course of the last several weeks.

She'd loved Jane so long that it felt like an intrinsic, inextricable part of her. Sometimes she didn't even think about it—it was just there, like her left arm or her spleen. But people could have their spleens removed and still get along just fine, couldn't they? If only she could remove her love for Jane so easily. Sometimes she thought she'd give damn near anything to cut the part of her that loved Jane out of her body, but where was she supposed to start? It was a type of surgery for which she was ill-equipped. Besides, (as another, darker part of her whispered on the bad days), what if once she cut that part of her away, there was nothing left?

She wasn't sure she loved Marcus. She certainly liked him an awful lot, and she loved a lot of things _about_ him. She loved that he had warm brown eyes, that he was a terrible liar, and that he knew more about art than she could ever hope to learn in a lifetime. She loved the way she felt around him. She loved that he was in a band and liked old movies, even if she didn't share those things with him. She loved that he was clear and direct and never hid the fact that he wanted to be with her. How many things that you loved about a person did you need to add up before you knew that you loved them?

On the other hand, what had love ever gotten her? A churning, anxious feeling in her stomach and a constant dull ache in her chest, punctuated only by the occasional sharp pain directly in the heart.

Non-love, meanwhile, gave her a giddy, pleased feeling, conversations that bore no resemblance to walking through a minefield, and regular sex for the first time in—you know what, the exact amount of time was irrelevant. The point was, Marcus was good for her, and Jane was like…gangrene. Wasn't it better to chop the arm off and learn to do everything one-handed than to maintain the status quo and let it slowly poison her to death?

It was annoying—she hated a lot of things about Jane, but she still loved him. She didn't hate anything about Marcus and she couldn't bring herself to care for him the way she knew he deserved. Still, she thought she could love him, eventually. Given enough time. Which seemed to be in short supply these days.

"Whatcha doing?" Jane again, his voice softer this time.

Lisbon, startled again, spun around in her chair to face him, hoping the question foremost on her mind wasn't stamped all over her features (did he love her/had he ever loved her/would he ever love her?). "Nothing," she said hastily, willing herself not to blush. "Thinking."

Instead of lounging on his couch as usual, Jane sat down in the chair opposite her. "What?" he said, looking at her intently. "Meaning of life type stuff?"

She smiled a little. "Something like that."

Jane shifted in his chair, looking like he was about to say something else, but Wiley interrupted. "I got something."

It looked like Wiley had been more successful in the hunt for the owner of the truck than she had been. He'd gotten a name—Michael Ridley.

Lisbon got up to go with Jane to interrogate Michael Ridley, abandoning her musings gladly. She bent to lock her computer screen before she left.

The query was still running.

Xxx

It was a relief to drill Ridley with pointed questions, going on the offensive. She and Jane worked in seamless rhythm, him provoking the other man with questions stemming from his observations of his surroundings, her following up with well-researched details. Despite the frustration of dealing with the slippery Ridley while the clock continued to run down on those girls' lives, Lisbon spared a moment to acknowledge to herself that if she did leave, she would miss working with Jane. They'd been working together so long, any interrogation they conducted together proceeded like a well-rehearsed dance. Even if Jane decided to improvise now and then, she was comfortable enough with his ways now that she was usually willing to go with the flow, trusting that if she kept step with him, eventually they would reach their goal together. His methods still exasperated her, though, and sometimes she feared she went along with him too easily. Certainly she was more willing to go along with his mad schemes than she had been when they first met. But the mad schemes so often worked, and it was so satisfying to see perps brought down by the results of their tag-teaming. And now that she wasn't his boss anymore, it wasn't her problem if he colored outside the lines a little to get the bad guys. Truthfully, she'd never had a professional partnership so rewarding, before meeting him or since. It was on the personal side where they tended to flounder.

xxx

When they got back to HQ after the interview, her mind reverted back to the problem at hand—her apparent inability to separate the personal from professional. When she saw Cho fixing himself a cup of coffee, she gratefully turned into the break room, intending to avail himself of his advice. Cho's judgment wouldn't be clouded by emotional considerations, and no matter what happened, he wouldn't bullshit her. He would tell her the truth.

A slight raising of his eyebrows betrayed his surprise when she told him about the job offer, but he offered no judgment. Just asked, calmly and dispassionately, "You gonna take it?"

She admitted she hadn't decided yet. He acquiesced to her request that he not mention it to anyone yet, then said unexpectedly, "It'd be a great move, though."

"You think?" she said, not concealing her own surprise.

"Absolutely. You remember the first day we worked together?"

She blinked, thrown by the unexpected reference. "Sure."

"I almost quit."

"Really?" she said, surprised again. "Why?"

"Rigsby."

She couldn't conceal a smile at that.

"But then I saw the way you worked," Cho continued. "And I knew I had to stay. I wouldn't be where I am today if it weren't for you. Whatever decision you make, it's been an honor."

Emotion welled up. Lisbon blinked back unexpected tears. She didn't have words to express what his words meant to her, so she stepped forward and put her arms around him, hugging him for possibly the second time in their nearly fifteen year acquaintance.

If she left, it wasn't just Jane that she would miss. She had been so lonely in Washington after the collapse of the CBI, but here in Texas, she had been rebuilding a real life. She was part of a team again. She had formed a real friendship with Kim, and Wiley made her laugh. She even liked working with Abbott, now that they'd gotten the initial sticky phase of him accusing her of being a corrupt cop and her lying to him for two years about not being in contact with Jane. And nobody could replace Cho.

"By the way," Cho said, when she released him from the hug. "They're ordering Chinese for lunch."

She had to smile. Classic Cho.

She really would miss him, if she decided to leave.

Xxx

She went back to working the case. After Cho and Fischer ran down Lark's daughter, she and Jane went to Ridley's house to rattle his cage. Ridley stayed cool, however, and showed no sign of being rattled. Lisbon eyed him with contempt and pointed out that once they tracked down Lark, they would be able to prove once and for all whether he was involved. She knew he was, though. She could feel it. Her lip curled, thinking over the matter in the car on the way back to HQ. Ridley reminded her of Volker. There was no physical resemblance, but they shared the same kind of attitude. The 'nothing can touch me because I'm too clever and well-connected' attitude. Fortunately, she and Jane specialized in taking down people with that kind of attitude. Once they tracked down Lark, they would have him.

Kim and Cho, somewhat worse for the wear after being caught in a blast intended for Lark, hauled Lark in that night. Kim and Abbott took him into interrogation the next morning and cracked him like an egg in less than half an hour. Once Lark signed his statement, Jane accompanied Lisbon as she arrested Ridley at his office.

They interrogated him for several hours, but Ridley remained cool as a cucumber. He didn't give them a damn thing. Then, frustratingly, he was released on bail, despite Lisbon arguing strenuously that the man was an obvious flight risk. Still, they had Lark. The case against Ridley was shaping up, whether he cooperated or not.

She got home late that night. She called Marcus and told him she would catch up with him the following day. Then she proceeded to pass a sleepless night staring at the ceiling and thinking about every time Jane had ever touched her.

xxx

Disgusted with herself and guilty over her treacherous heart's disloyalty to Marcus, she resolved that she needed to have a real conversation with Jane before she could decide anything. She would tell him about the job offer. And if he said, in effect, 'have a nice life,' the way he had when she'd told him about the possibility of moving to D.C. in the first place, well… then she'd have her answer, wouldn't she?

Her courage lasted through getting ready for work, driving to work, and all the way through preparing a cup of coffee for herself and a cup of tea for Jane. Armed with her mug and a white cup and saucer, she headed out into the bullpen. That was when her resolve flagged. Jane was sleeping on his couch.

Well, this was unfair. She'd imagined herself marching up to him and demanding a reckoning, fully intending to unleash her wrath upon him if he showed any signs of messing her around. But whenever she saw him asleep on that couch, part of her melted into a puddle of goo and short-circuited her entirely reasonable intentions of giving him a piece of her mind. Back when they were at the CBI, the frequent threat of litigation had been a useful means of offsetting this feeling, obliterating the tendency towards goo and allowing her to focus on the task at hand. Namely, waking him up with a swift kick to the couch and yelling at him like he deserved. Now, however, she had no convenient lawsuits to return her to her senses. The familiar softness at the sight of him stole into her heart and slowed her steps.

She took a deep breath and continued towards him.

"Jane," she said softly, leaning down to give him his tea.

He turned his head to the side before blinking himself awake, disoriented. His face relaxed into an expression of relief and utter contentment as he gazed up at her. He let out a long, satisfied sigh of pleasure as he saw the cup and saucer she'd extended towards him and accepted the tea gratefully. See, this was why she could never stay mad at him, despite her best intentions. Who could stay angry at anyone who looked that happy to see them when they first woke up?

He always looked like that when he saw her right when he woke up, she realized, thinking of every time she'd had to wait for him to wake up in a hospital bed or after some other dire occurrence. In unguarded moments, even after being tasered or half blown up, he always looked so happy to see her. Her heart softened further. She smiled a little. "Scooch over."

He didn't hesitate. He sat up and scooched.

This was another thing she'd miss if she left. Even if he never had the same feelings for her that she did for him, they would always have _this_. This comfortable, profound sense of companionship. The unquestioning acceptance of each other's company. If she left, she'd miss these quiet moments with Jane. Every one of their quiet moments had made them closer, and they'd amassed quite a lot of them over the years. The thought of approaching a finite end to those quiet moments made her heart constrict in her chest.

Suddenly, she didn't want to have a serious conversation with Jane. She just wanted to have this quiet moment with him, to hold and treasure for years to come. She wanted to talk about something silly and meaningless, something where the substance mattered less than the shared moment.

She watched him rearrange himself on the couch to make room for him, sat down next to him and gave him a gentle smirk. "How often do you sleep in your own bed, anyway?" she teased.

"Oh, I don't like that bed," he said, casting her a sideways glance. "Too many lumps."

"Maybe you should get a new bed," she said lightly, taking a sip of her coffee.

"Mm." He acknowledged the point with a shrug.

Belatedly, it occurred to her that talking about beds with Jane might not quite be the light and inconsequential subject she'd intended it to be. She took another sip of her coffee and hastily changed the subject. "Actually, you know what? I always did like this couch." They'd had a lot of their quiet moments on this couch. She looked at the seat cushion next to her with fondness. Somehow, the fact that it had crossed through all these years and multiple state lines and was still with them was immeasurably comforting in that moment.

When she looked back at Jane, he was looking at her intently, despite otherwise appearing like he'd just woken up. She felt a pang of regret for having woken him, thinking of all his years of lost sleep. She looked back into his eyes. He looked back at her steadily, his eyes managing to convey both affection and resignation.

All the reasons for needing to have a real conversation with him rushed back to her.

Her smile faded. "Jane…"

He just looked back at her, a half smile on his face, tired and vulnerable.

She tried again. "Jane—"

She faltered and couldn't get the words out.

Jane interrupted. "I meant it, you know," he said quietly, taking a sip of his tea.

"Meant what?" Lisbon asked, thrown by the non-sequitur. That he just wanted her to be happy? That he was happy for her leaving, that he wasn't upset? That his bed really was intolerably lumpy?

His shoulders hunched ever so slightly and he kept his eyes on his teacup. "What I said to you before I shot you," he said, his voice low.

Lisbon stopped breathing. "You—you meant it?"

Jane looked weary. "Yes."

Lisbon didn't know what to make of this. He meant it. Great. So at some point, roughly four years ago, he had meant it when he said he loved her. Thanks, Jane, that really clears things up. Was this a friendly, sisterly love? He had been in love with her then, but now it was all in the past? He'd gone to his island for two years and now he was thoroughly over it?

"I got offered a job in D.C.," she blurted out.

He kept his voice even, but the knuckles on the hand holding the teacup turned white. "Are you going to take it?"

"I…I don't know," she said confusedly.

He took another sip of tea. "What's holding you back?"

"I…" She swallowed. "It's a big change."

"Yes," he said evenly. He paused. "It's a good opportunity for you, though."

"I suppose," Lisbon said, a little put out. It _was_ a good opportunity, but did he have to be so irritatingly encouraging about it? The man conned people for a living, for God's sake. He could at least have the decency to pretend to be upset that she might be leaving.

"You deserve to be recognized for your work," he persisted. "It's long past due."

Lisbon felt unreasonably annoyed by the praise. She'd always resented the perception that she'd attained a significant measure of her professional success by riding Jane's coattails—now she was irritated at herself for how little she actually gave a damn about the new job. "Thank you," she said stiffly.

"Teresa. I'm serious. You deserve this." He hesitated and looked down. "You deserve him."

Infuriating man.

"Jane." Her heart beat in her chest at four times its normal rate. "What…why did you say that to me just now?"

Jane shrugged. "He's a good man."

"No, the…the other thing."

He turned his shoulders towards her, then his chin. His eyes, forced by the angling of the rest of his body, came last. He met her gaze. "Because you deserve to hear it." He inhaled deeply through his nose. "And if you decide to go to D.C., this might be one of the last chances I have to tell you before you go."

Her heart sank into her stomach. "You think I should go, then?"

He sighed. "I told you…I just want what's best for you."

"And you think that's going to D.C. with Marcus," she interpreted.

He summoned a smile. "A great job with people who understand your true worth and a cute boyfriend who adores you? Who could ask for more?"

Lisbon grimaced. Hearing Jane utter the words 'cute boyfriend' was just wrong on so many levels. "Yeah," she said gloomily. Well, she'd wanted clarity. Now she had it. Jane thought she should go to D.C. He'd finally responded to the question she'd left unspoken for so long. She couldn't very well complain now if she didn't like the answer.

Having a left arm was overrated, anyway.

His smile faded. "Lisbon, I—"

A familiar voice interrupted them. "Bad news, guys." Fischer said, her expression grim. Cho stood next to her, equally dour.

Lisbon blinked up at them, trying to get her bearings. "What happened?"

"We just got back from the jail," Cho told them. "Lark killed himself."

"And our case," Fischer said darkly.

Lisbon straightened. "Without his testimony, we don't have enough to make the charges stick on Ridley." God dammit. That bastard was going to get away with it.

Jane made a 'hm' noise that indicated displeasure. "Sounds like this problem might require a little creative thinking."

Next to him, Lisbon tensed. "Jane, we can't afford for one of your insane plans to let Ridley get off on a technicality because you entrapped him or something. The lives of those girls depend on us getting the information we need from him."

"Relax, Lisbon," Jane said, sipping his tea and leaning back into his couch. "I guarantee you Ridley won't get off on a technicality. We'll get the information from him before the ships dock, so we can save Daniela's sister and the rest of the girls. I promise."

Hope warred with a familiar queasy feeling in her stomach. Jane's tone as he offered this guarantee reminded her of the time she'd been fretting over the gas gauge creeping perilously closer to the 'E' indicator as they approached a crime scene on the edge of the Mojave Desert together with no fuel station in sight. Jane had cheerfully advised her not to worry about running out of gas. He'd been right—she hadn't needed to worry about running out of gas, because twenty minutes later, he'd taken the car and abandoned her at a fruit stand one hundred miles from anything. "You already have a plan?"

Jane sipped his tea again. "Working on it."

Xxx

It wasn't until late that afternoon, after another dead lead, that Jane revealed his plan to her.

She and Fischer spent most of the day running down a lead on a potential organ recipient, a wealthy oil tycoon from Nigeria. But by the time they finally tracked down his driver, Diop had fled the country and they were back to square one.

She called Jane and told him about Diop leaving town. "He was our only lead," Lisbon said into the phone. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. All those girls. "I'm running out of ideas."

"Well, I'm not," Jane said confidently.

"You have a plan?"

"Yeah. But I'm going to need your help."

Another tone she recognized. She groaned inwardly. "Why don't I like the sound of that?"

"Well, I'm going to need you to be deceitful and corrupt," Jane said mildly. "And you'll be breaking numerous laws."

Lisbon closed her eyes.

"Lisbon?"

"I'm thinking," she snapped.

"Ridley will walk," Jane said. "This is the only way." Apropos of nothing, he said, "Are you a medium, or a small?"

She scowled into the phone. "You're not helping yourself out here, Jane."

"Meet me at Wheatondale in two hours," he said. "I'll leave the scrubs out for you. You bring a can of hydraulic fluid and some sponges."

"Hydraulic fluid?" Lisbon repeated. The disturbing thing was, this was not even remotely the weirdest thing Jane had ever asked her to provide as part of his schemes.

"Yeah, you know, that reddish stuff. The darker the better."

"What for?" she asked suspiciously.

"Oh, we're going to convince Ridley that we're going to torture and murder him," Jane said blithely. "We're going to need a lot of fake blood to sell it properly. Hydraulic fluid is just the stuff. It's the perfect consistency."

"Jane," she hissed into the phone. "We can't do that. It's illegal."

"I'm aware of that, Lisbon," Jane said, rustling around with something in the background. "See previous comment about breaking numerous laws. Oh—and I'm going to need you to give Wiley a fake tattoo."

A tattoo? What the hell? "This is a bad idea, Jane," she warned.

"I agree it's not ideal," Jane said. "But it's the best option available to us, so we might as well do the thing properly."

"And who cares if I throw away that 'wonderful opportunity' we were talking about earlier in the process because I've violated every code of ethics known to the federal government?" Lisbon said sarcastically.

"Please, Lisbon," Jane said, pained. "Like I'd allow that to happen to you."

Lisbon ground her teeth. Of course. Because it was always about him and how damn clever he was. "Even if your terrible plan works, the minute we let Ridley go, he's going to run straight to his lawyer and slap the FBI with a lawsuit. I'm certain our names will feature prominently."

"It'll be his word against ours."

"Yeah, but everyone knows you're a big liar. Your word isn't going to be worth much to Abbott."

"No," he acknowledged. "But yours will. All you have to do when he asks you about it is not flinch, and we'll be home free."

"You mean lie to my boss through my teeth," Lisbon said flatly.

"Now you're getting into the spirit of the thing," Jane said, sounding pleased that she was catching on.

"Jane, you're asking me to put my integrity on the line," Lisbon said. "That's not—" she exhaled. "I don't want to be the sort of person who would do this kind of thing."

"Lisbon, the man is evil. He's using those girls like products in a factory line for his own financial gain. He deserves to suffer."

The annoying thing was that part of her agreed with him. A bigger part of her than she liked. She thought about what he was asking her to do. Back in her early days at the CBI, such an idea would have been unthinkable to her. But somewhere along the line, she'd grown desensitized to Jane's outrageous behavior. After all, was this any worse than what she'd done to stop Volker? To help stop Red John? Once you sacrificed your principles the first time, could you cross back to the other side of the Rubicon? She thought of Marcus, so sweet and guileless. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Suddenly, getting on a plane with him and never speaking to Jane again seemed remarkably tempting.

"You're talking about kidnapping and torturing a man, Jane."

"I'm not going to hurt him. But yes, the kidnapping, that part is correct."

"Jane, it's too risky. Do you not understand how easily this plan could fall apart? We might not even get what we need from Ridley. We could lose our jobs or end up in jail and have absolutely nothing to show for it."

"Have a little faith, Lisbon. I know what I'm doing."

She didn't answer, still thinking. She brought her hand to her cross. All those girls.

"Teresa." She heard a funny kind of hitching sound in his breathing. "I kinda bared my soul to you earlier. Don't you think you could find it in yourself to trust me, this once?"

Now he was using her emotions to manipulate her. Again. In some ways, the old wound from that evening on the cliff side in Malibu was still fresh and raw. "You didn't bare your soul to me," she snapped. "You made a cryptic comment about another cryptic comment you made four years ago."

He took a deep breath. "Okay. That was…not my intention. But I can see how it might appear that way, in a certain light. From your perspective. And we should talk about that, later, once we've taken care of Ridley."

"Because you just assume I'm going to go along with this illegal, ill-considered plan of yours," she said bitterly.

"We-ell… assume is a strong word," Jane hedged. "I merely have faith that ultimately, you will find it within yourself to agree with me that saving Daniela's sister and those other girls is worth the price of some temporary discomfort on Ridley's part. Of course, it's possible that I'm wrong. Maybe this new job is too important to you. Maybe you'd rather keep your nose clean and go out on a nice romantic date with Pike tonight so you can contemplate your wonderful new life together instead of saving those girls' lives."

"Oh, shut up," she said irritably.

He paused. "So you'll do it, then?"

She sighed. "What kind of tattoo do you need me to put on Wiley?"

Xxx

The whole kidnapping affair went down pretty much exactly as Jane said it would. A little fake screaming from Wiley, a generous portion of hydraulic fluid splashed all over her and Jane, and Ridley crumbled like a cookie. He gave them the password to the encrypted laptop. The girls were found on the container ship when it docked in Columbia less than two hours later.

The aftermath of the kidnapping went down pretty much exactly as Lisbon said it would.

After they let him go, Ridley turned up at the FBI with a thousand dollar an hour lawyer, spitting mad. Lisbon tensed when she saw them come in. Jane put a comforting hand at the small of her back and murmured into her ear. "Don't worry. I'll handle this."

Knowing her poker face wasn't nearly good enough to last through a confrontation with Ridley, Lisbon let him go without a fight. She watched as Jane smoothly inserted himself into the debrief with Abbott. She stole into the observation room next to the interrogation room and watched for a few minutes. She marveled at Jane's bold, confident lies as he coolly denied every accusation. When Ridley started to lose his cool and accused them of murdering his tattooed compatriot, Abbott raised his eyebrows and showed Ridley a video feed of the very man he'd just named cooling his heels in jail, alive and well. Lisbon watched Jane smirk slightly, clearly enjoying Ridley's impression of a gutted fish at this revelation. She shook her head and headed back to the bullpen to help Wiley get the ink off his arm.

A few minutes later, Abbott called her into his office. He did not look happy. A pit of dread opened in her stomach. He'd played it off in front of the lawyer, but the grim line of his mouth told her he suspected something pretty near the truth.

She followed him into his office and cast a worried glance at Jane, but Jane stayed cool, his focus on Abbott.

Abbott folded his hands on his desk in front of him. "Mr. Ridley and his lawyer have made some serious claims against you two."

"They're only serious if they're true," Jane pointed out.

Abbott looked at Jane with his 'don't bullshit me' face. "Are they?"

Jane, of course, was immune to 'don't bullshit me' expressions of all varieties. "No."

Lisbon, in the chair next to Jane, just sat there and felt ill. Abbott turned his attention from Jane and looked at her expectantly. A beat late, she remembered to offer her line. "No."

Abbott raised his eyebrows. "So you didn't threaten to kill Ridley, and you didn't stage the death of his associate?"

"No, of course not," Jane said, injecting a trace of indignation into his voice.

Abbott smiled, one of those 'too many teeth' smiles that never boded well for anyone. He injected his own voice with a measure of false cheer exactly calculated to counterweight Jane's false indignation. "Great!" He spread his hands. "Well, then, I'm done with you."

Lisbon let out a tiny breath and started to stand.

"Not you, Lisbon," Abbott said sharply.

Damn. He'd decided to go with the divide and conquer strategy, and he clearly considered her the weakest link. She hid a cringe and sank back into her chair.

Jane glanced at her and hesitated, but apparently determined that leaving her would be the better strategic move for the time being, because he made his way out of Abbott's office quietly, leaving her to fend for herself.

Abbott waited for Jane to leave, then turned back to Lisbon. "Jane is a liar," he said calmly. "No need to deny it. I expect it of him." He fixed his gaze on her. "But you're not a liar, Lisbon. You're an honest, good person with a long career ahead of you. And I don't want to see you throw away this new opportunity of yours. So I'm going to ask you one more time." His tone was even and measured. "Is there any truth to Ridley's accusations?"

Lisbon felt worse than the time her mom had asked her calmly, with that all-knowing, penetrating gaze, who had hit the baseball through the front window. She felt like the lowest worm alive. A good, honest person. She had been those things, once. And now she had covered up how many crimes, obstructed justice how many times, all in the name of 'poetic justice?'

The worst part was, she knew she'd do it all over again, if the occasion arose. And it would, if she stayed, because that was how Jane did things. As long as she stayed with him, this would keep happening.

Abbott was still waiting for an answer. She thought of Jane, advising her that all she had to do to when Abbott asked her about this was to not flinch. She felt weary from bearing all the lies, but she went ahead and added another one to the pile. "No," she said mechanically. "Everything Jane said was true."

Abbott sighed, resigned. He made a dismissive gesture, and Lisbon hastened to make her escape.

xxx

She saw Marcus come around the corner when she exited Abbott's office. His face broke into a happy grin when he saw her. "There you are," he said.

She smiled at him, glad to see him. She felt some of her tension ease at the sight of him. Being around Marcus was such a relief. She didn't have to constantly be on the defensive with him. If being around Jane was like stepping out into no man's land in the middle of a war zone, being with Marcus was a respite from the flying shrapnel. _Heartache to heartache, we stand_ , she thought absently, then grimaced, recognizing the lyrics of "Love is a Battlefield" bubbling up from her subconscious. Dear God, now she was comparing her life to a 1980s rock ballad. She needed to get a grip.

Marcus reached for her. "You ready to go?"

"I am so ready," she said feelingly, stopping to give him a kiss. "You wouldn't believe the day I've had." She put her arms around him and held on for a minute, inhaling his clean, woodsy scent. This was another thing she loved about him. He was so openly affectionate. He kissed her so sweetly, and he hugged her all the time, not just as a marker of one end of some prolonged and painful separation or when one of them was about to die, or pretend to die.

 _Good luck, Teresa. Love you._

She let him go abruptly, confused and irritated with herself for letting Jane intrude on her thoughts yet again.

Marcus took her hand in his. "Look, uh…about D.C. I know it's a lot to take in. I didn't mean to pressure you."

She smiled a little. "Yeah, you did." But she didn't mind, because at least he was honest and straightforward about it.

He smiled back, sheepish. "Yeah, I did. Maybe a little. But it's your life. I just want to be a part of it."

Thinking of her guilt over the Ridley situation and her lies to Abbott, it was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she'd made up her mind. That she was going to call Don the next day and tell him that she was going to take the job.

An image of Jane's face, tired and vulnerable, flashed across her mind's eye. _I meant it, you know_.

She shook her head a little to clear it. "I…I thought a lot about the job today," she told Marcus truthfully. "I just…" she trailed off.

That funny hitch in his breath. _Teresa, I kinda bared my soul to you earlier._

The thing was, she realized with a sinking feeling, that he probably actually believed that. Jane was possibly the only person she'd ever met who was less equipped to talk about complex emotional issues than she was.

She took a deep breath. "I need a little more time," she finished.

Marcus made a valiant effort to conceal his disappointment, and almost succeeded. "Okay. No problem." He hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Would it, uh, sweeten the deal if I asked you to marry me?"

Lisbon froze. Panic seized her chest. "Wha…what?" she stammered at last.

He rubbed her arms. "Wow, I wish we were somewhere more romantic. But what the hell… will you marry me?"

Her mouth worked, but no sound came out.

Marcus watched her less than enthusiastic expression. He squeezed her hands. "Don't freak out."

"Wow - _marry_ you?" Lisbon said, panic etched on every feature. Inwardly, she groaned at herself. Worst response to a proposal ever. She tried to make it better. "Um..."

"I know," Marcus said hastily. "You need time to think about it."

"Yeah," she said, gratefully seizing the out he was offering her. "It's a big decision. It's huge."

Marcus smiled gently. "No pressure. Okay?"

He kissed her gently. A sweet, honest kiss. She kissed him back, enjoying the closeness.

 _You're a good, honest person._ The words sounded accusing in her own head.

Her heart sank into her toes and she broke away.

She looked up into Marcus's sweet, hopeful face, and realized that if she accepted his proposal, it would be the single most selfish act of her entire life. She thought back over the past fourteen hours. The truth dawned on her with blinding clarity. She'd been deceiving herself this whole time. She'd been processing every event in her relationship with Marcus not as a progression in intimacy between the two of them, but as a reaction to something that Jane had said or done, or not said and not done, as the case may be, over the course of the past thirteen years.

It didn't matter what crap was between her and Jane. Staying with Marcus because it was gratifying and pleasant for her wasn't right. That wasn't a solid foundation for a real and lasting relationship. If she was certain of one thing in all this, it was that above all, she wanted something real. She didn't want to be the sort of person who used someone for her own convenience, without any regard to what her behavior might to do him in the long run. Marcus was a wonderful, kind man. He didn't deserve to be relegated to serving as her release valve, her means of escape. He deserved a good, honest woman who adored him wholly and unconditionally. Someone who didn't get tied up in knots over a handful of words uttered by another man.

Tears stung her eyes. She did care for him. Giving him up was going to hurt.

"Okay," he said, his smile fading into a look of concern. He squeezed her hands again. "What just happened?"

She swallowed a sob. "Marcus," she said, her heart breaking. "I can't marry you."

His face fell. "You don't—you don't want to think about it?"

She shook her head mutely. "I—" She choked on the words.

He searched her face. "You don't want to come to D.C., either," he concluded, his eyes going dark with pain.

She wanted to laugh bitterly. Wanted to explain to him that _want_ had nothing to do with it. She raised her eyes, luminous with unshed tears, to meet his. "I can't."

Marcus slipped his hands slowly out of hers, reading the truth on her face. "So…this is it?"

She nodded miserably. "I'm going to call Don tomorrow and tell him I'm going to pass on the job."

"And us?" he said, his voice heartbreakingly uncertain. "We're over, just like that?"

"I'm sorry," she whispered. She was lower than a worm.

He tried to put on a broken smile. "I knew I should have asked somewhere more romantic."

She gave out a little huff of slightly hysterical laughter, then kissed him one last time. "I'm sorry," she said again into his neck when he tentatively slid his arms around her. She gently extricated herself and dashed at her eyes. "You deserve so much better than me, Marcus. You deserve the best."

He just shook his head, his heartbreak clear in his honest eyes. He raked his hand through his hair. "I guess… there's not much left to say, huh?"

"I guess not," she said sadly.

"Okay." He nodded. "I'm just gonna—you know, try to leave here with a shred of dignity intact, so, you know—I guess I'll say good-bye."

She looked at him with regret and longing. "Good night, Marcus."

"Good-bye, Teresa," he said softly, his own longing stamped on his features. "I'll—can we talk again, sometime before I leave? Not—not right away. But maybe in a couple weeks?"

"I'd like that," she said quietly. "Be well, Marcus."

"You, too, Teresa," he echoed. "Take care of yourself." He cast one more searching look at her, and left.

She watched him leave, her heart feeling like a balloon with all the air let out. She took several shuddering breaths to regain control of herself, and then, panic-stricken, realized that the spot she where she was standing was directly in the line of sight from Jane's couch. If he had seen— She turned her head quickly, then exhaled with relief. Empty. Thank God. The idea of him witnessing the scene that had just transpired was nothing less than nightmarish.

The reading lamp next to his couch was on, however, which meant he was still rattling around the building somewhere. She hurried to her desk to get her things, desperate to get out of the bullpen before he returned.

She almost made it. She'd punched the 'down' button and was standing with her keys clutched tightly in her hand, silently urging the elevator to _hurryhurryhurry._ It was at that moment that Jane wandered out of the break room, a cup of tea in one hand and a book bound in white leather tucked under his arm.

He paused when he saw her. Their eyes met for a long, charged moment. He opened his mouth and took half a step toward her.

The elevator dinged.

The corners of her mouth turned downward and she looked away, staring straight ahead as the doors opened.

She pressed her lips together into a grim line and left without a word.


	2. Chapter 2

She successfully avoided Jane for the next two weeks.

Well, not avoided him, exactly. They saw each other every day. But she was crisp and professional when they went on interviews together, and she shut down any overture towards non-work related conversation in the times between. Jane watched her like she was a bomb about to go off and for once didn't push.

She grieved for her relationship with Marcus in the traditional way, nursing her heartache in front of the TV screen with too much ice cream. Then she would go upstairs, stare at the bedroom ceiling, and think about Jane. _Good luck, Teresa. Love you._

She saw Marcus twice before he left. He didn't treat her with anger on either occasion, for which she was profoundly grateful, but his sad kindness made the interactions twice as painful.

The first time, she took some of his things over to his place and they had a long talk. After a while, though, the conversation grew stilted and awkward, and the pain and hope mixed in his eyes made her feel like hell. She said good-bye and took her leave. Getting back into her car, she felt a pang of guilt and sadness in her chest when she realized she hadn't left any of her own belongings at his place to collect.

The second and last time was on his last day at the FBI when he stopped by the bullpen to say good-bye towards the end of the day. Lisbon got up when Abbott stopped him by the elevators to shake his hand and wish him well. She wanted to wish him well herself and she didn't want Jane sitting five feet behind her while she did it. She walked over to the elevators, her hands shoved in her pockets, and gave Marcus a tentative smile. Abbott looked at her and quickly excused himself. Marcus, busy staring at her, barely registered his departure.

They managed a couple of minutes of small talk before Marcus's phone buzzed in his pocket. He grimaced. "That's my ride. I should probably—"

"Yeah," she said quickly. "Of course." She hesitated, then said, "Good luck in D.C., Marcus."

"Thanks," he said, his face clouding over.

She blew out a breath. "I really want good things for you. You know that, right?"

He managed a broken smile. "Likewise."

She put her hand on his shoulder and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Take care of yourself, Marcus," she said softly.

"You, too, Teresa," he said, his voice wistful. "I'll—I guess I'll see you around sometime."

She forced a smile. "Yeah."

He got onto the elevator then. He punched the button for the ground floor and watched her with doleful brown eyes until the doors closed.

Her shoulders slumped when the doors closed and she bowed her head for a moment. She let her fingers come to rest on her cross, the familiar feel of the cool metal reassuring against her fingertips.

She inhaled deeply and collected herself. She let her hand fall from her cross and squared her shoulders, turning back towards her desk. Then she saw Jane on his couch and stopped dead.

Jane was sitting on his couch, cup and saucer clutched tightly in his hands, staring at her so intently she thought he might burn two holes through her like lasers from his eyes.

Shit. It looked like the grace period of avoidance was over. She dithered for a minute, trying to figure out if there was any possible way of escaping gracefully. Ultimately, she determined there was nothing for it—she was going to have to face him.

Crossing the expanse of the bullpen felt like a journey of a hundred miles. She couldn't decide whether to meet Jane's gaze or avoid it, with the result that she probably looked like she had some kind of bizarre tic as she made her way back to her desk. Jane didn't take his eyes off her the whole time.

He rose when she passed the briefing area and set his cup and saucer down with a clatter. Lisbon came to a faltering stop next to her desk. The next thing she knew, he'd taken two giant steps towards her and engulfed her in a hug so tight she thought he might squeeze all the air out of her lungs.

She could feel his heart thundering in his chest. "You're not going to D.C.," he said, his voice full of wonder.

He'd hugged her just like this when he'd pretended to shoot her.

She patted him on the back awkwardly, acutely aware that they were in the middle of the bullpen and not keen to have an audience for this particular scene. "No," she agreed. She dropped her chin to his shoulder. "You're just figuring this out now?" This was nothing less than shocking—she'd assumed he'd read it off her as soon as she'd broken it off with Marcus.

He shook his head into her shoulder, not giving any indication that he had any intention of letting her go any time soon. "I was afraid to ask. And the FBI gossips were frustratingly ill-informed on the subject. I kept getting conflicting information."

"How inconvenient for you," she remarked, rolling her eyes behind his back. Okay, yes, she had been avoiding him, but he could have just asked her.

His arms tightened around her. When he spoke, his voice was strangely croaky and hoarse. "Teresa. I was in agony."

She blinked rapidly, then thought again of the number of people who were most likely staring at them. "Jane," she said stiffly.

Sensing her discomfort, he let her go immediately. "Sorry," he said, his eyes shining at her. "Of course. You're right. Not the right place or time." He patted her arms, his eyes bright. "We can talk later. Whenever you want. I'm here."

She nodded jerkily. "Yeah. I'm gonna—" she gestured vaguely towards the exit. No way could she sit back down at her desk and focus with him staring at the back of her head after that whole scene.

"Yes. Good idea," he said, smiling a goofy, happy smile at her. "Long day. Time to call it a night."

Lisbon grabbed her stuff and hightailed it out of there, ignoring the curious glances of the other agents milling around the bullpen. As she waited for the elevator doors to close, she caught sight of Jane lying on his couch. He'd abandoned his tea and was resting with his head pillowed against the arm rest, his arms crossed across his chest, and a small, delighted smile on his lips.

Predictably, her heart softened at the sight of him. He was so god dammed beautiful. And he looked so happy. Happy that she was staying.

 _I meant it._

The elevator doors closed. She touched her cross and released a breath. She was sad about things with Marcus ending the way they had, but now that it was all over, a tiny part of her was relieved. Which meant it had been the right decision, in the end. She was still annoyed at Jane for all his lies and tricks though, and at herself for going over to the dark side and joining him in them.

As she drove home, his words played in a loop inside her head.

She needed more ice cream. She needed to think about the situation like a calm, rational adult.

 _Good-luck-Teresa-love-you-I-meant-it-you-have-no-idea-what-you-mean-to-me._

Then she would decide what the hell to do about Jane.

Xxx

The next day, Jane bought tacos for the whole floor. The whole thing turned into an impromptu party. Jane roamed around the bullpen, flashing dazzling smiles at everyone he met, performing magic tricks and doing things like advising the junior staff how to get on their bosses' good sides close to performance review time and matchmaking the lovelorn across units. Lisbon, standing with Abbott in the briefing area, shook her head to herself. He looked like he was about five seconds from busting out a piñata and raining down candy over everyone. Dammit. It was so hard to stay irritated with him when he was going around beaming at everyone like he'd just gotten the keys to Willie Wonka's Chocolate Factory.

Fischer joined them, holding a plate piled high with nachos and the biggest taco Lisbon had ever seen.

"Did Jane have a personality transplant or something?" Kim said, taking a huge bite of taco. "I've never seen him like this."

Abbott cast a sidelong glance at Lisbon. "I think he got some good news he wasn't expecting," he said mildly.

Lisbon studiously kept her eyes on the crowd and said nothing.

"Well, I hope the personality transplant is here to stay," Kim said with feeling. "Watching him mope around here like he just lost his best friend was really bringing me down."

Lisbon winced internally but managed to keep her expression impassive.

"Of course, he's probably just happy that you're staying with the team, Lisbon," Kim continued around another mouthful of taco.

"Yes, I'm sure Patrick is happy Teresa is staying with the team," Abbott said with a light, ironic emphasis on the word 'team.'

Lisbon couldn't help herself that time. She shot him a glare.

Fischer, busy with her taco, missed the glare but heard the subtle allusion in Abbott's tone. "Oh." She looked at Lisbon and her eyes widened. "Ohhh."

"I don't know," Lisbon said, fed up with the innuendo. Were there teams that stayed out of each other's personal lives? Because she thought she might like to join one of them. "I think Jane just really likes tacos."

She excused herself then. She was going to go find Cho. He could be relied upon to not want to talk about any interpersonal drama. And then she was going to get another taco.

Xxx

After the taco party ended and everyone had gone back to work, Jane brought her a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." She took a sip. Black, with two sugars. Just the way she liked it.

Instead of going back to his couch, Jane hovered around her desk. "Lisbon," he started, then stopped. "Teresa," he said haltingly. He actually fidgeted. Lisbon stilled over her coffee and paid attention. He took a deep breath. "Can I take you out for an ice cream later?"

She considered the offer. They did need to talk. Ice cream might be perfect. Outside of the office would be preferable, and she didn't feel like getting into a fight with Jane at a restaurant. But it seemed important to meet somewhere that felt like neutral territory. And if he broke her heart again, she'd already have ice cream on hand—she was running low at home. "Okay," she said finally.

He let out his breath in relief. "Shall we meet at that ice cream place in the park at 8?"

"Sounds good," she agreed.

She really hoped her first date with Jane wouldn't come to blows.

Xxx

She didn't get dressed up. She went for a run to burn off some of her nervous energy (and to combat the effects of all the ice cream she'd been eating lately). After a quick shower, she threw on a pair of jeans, a faded blue t-shirt, grabbed her keys, and left.

Jane, on the other hand, looked quite different from the scruffy, rumpled creature she'd left on the couch earlier that evening. When she found him waiting for her by the ice cream cart in the park, he was cleanly shaven and wearing a freshly pressed three-piece suit.

"You shaved," she remarked when she saw him.

He looked caught out, as though part of him was hoping she wouldn't notice that he'd transformed his appearance for the occasion. "Yes. I thought it was time I spruced myself up a bit. What do you think? Is it an improvement over the beach bum look?"

Lisbon shrugged. "I liked the beard."

His face fell. He rubbed his hand over his chin as though wishing he could grow it back that very moment, just to oblige her.

Seeing his disappointment, she added, "I like the vest, though." Truthfully, Jane was maddeningly attractive in pretty much any incarnation.

His face lit up. He rubbed his hands up and down his vest, preening. "This old thing?"

That was when she saw he wasn't wearing his wedding ring. She stared, her eyes wide and round.

His hands stilled and dropped to his side. He cleared his throat. "Let's get our ice cream," he said soberly. "What flavor do you want?"

Jane ordered vanilla. Lisbon, vanilla chocolate swirl. They took their cones from the vendor and fell into step beside each other on the park path, silence heavy between them.

"So…" Jane said tentatively. "Where should we start?"

Lisbon had been wondering this herself. How did one start sifting through over a decade of things unsaid? She took a deep breath. "I think," she said slowly, "that I need to get a few things off my chest."

Jane grimaced, not in protest, but as though bracing himself for an assault. "That's fair."

"I've been angry at you for a long time," she said, taking a thoughtful lick of her ice cream cone. "But I was also angry at myself, because no matter what you did, I never stopped loving you."

Jane inhaled sharply. His free hand clenched at his side, but he did not interrupt.

"I hated you a little bit for that," she said, trying to keep the bitterness out of her voice. "For having that power over me. And for...abusing it."

Jane winced as though his head hurt him. "Teresa…I need you to know how deeply I regret hurting you. At the time, I thought I was protecting you. I was terrified of Red John coming after you if I didn't catch him. But I've realized more recently that I was also protecting myself, in a twisted, backwards kind of way." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I was terrified of losing you, so I pushed you away. Because I didn't want you to realize the power you had over _me_. And that was the worst, most selfish thing I ever did, because you deserved to know that, at least, after all the other crap I put you through."

She said nothing, digesting this information. And then she was angry all over again, because she could have borne it all, if she had only known that one, critical thing for sure. She took another bite of ice cream and swallowed the pain.

"Maybe…" Jane swallowed thickly. "Maybe we should go through your grievances one by one. Work through them one at a time."

The idea had merit. She couldn't see any other way to move forward if they couldn't put the past behind them. She nodded. "Okay."

Jane looked nervous. "Go ahead, then. Doesn't have to be in any particular order—let's just get it all out there."

"Going to Vegas without telling me," Lisbon said immediately. She scowled. "Cutting me out for six months. And more than that, letting me worry myself sick that whole time."

Jane flinched, but looked determined. "Go on."

She didn't look at him. "Pretending to forget that you told me you loved me." That was a big one.

Jane looked like he had an ice cream headache. "And?"

"Manipulating me on that cliff in Malibu."

Jane pressed his lips together. "What else?"

Lisbon considered. "Asking me for my gun when you went after Red John," she said after a moment.

He blinked. He hadn't been expecting that one. He waited, but nothing more was forthcoming. "What else?"

Lisbon took another bite of her ice cream. "I think we hit the highlights."

"That's it?" he blurted out.

She glanced at him. "Do you want me to be mad at you for something else?"

"What about all the other stuff?" he demanded.

She raised an eyebrow. "Which stuff, specifically, are you referring to?"

He started ticking off items on his free hand. "Killing Red John. Helping Lorelei escape prison. Sleeping with Lorelei. Causing the CBI to implode. Letting Abbott arrest you. Running away for two years. And that doesn't even cover all the times I lied to you and tricked you in our ordinary, run of the mill cases, or any of the stuff I did in our first few years together."

She sighed. "Of course I wasn't happy about any of those things. But I've come to terms with them, in the time since. The CBI falling apart wasn't your fault. The Red John stuff…it got so complicated. I knew you were never going to have any peace if you didn't catch him, and by the end, with all that Blake Association stuff going on, I couldn't see any way to stop him but to let you unleash that devious brain of yours on him. I was so paranoid about everyone around me, I stopped believing that he could be brought safely to trial and be tried in a fair court of law. So I decided to help you. That was my choice, not yours. As for Lorelei… look, I thought your plan was insane, and I wasn't happy about you letting her blindside me in that interrogation. And yes," she admitted grudgingly. "I was a little jealous. But I didn't have any claim on you. It was easier to let go of that than the other, in the end."

"You did have a claim," Jane said quietly. "Part of the reason I let the Lorelei situation play out the way it did was because I was desperate to make sure no one found out about that claim."

"Yeah, that totally worked," Lisbon said sarcastically. "I got that, what with Red John asking for my head in a box."

He sighed. "I admit that particular scheme did not pan out the way that I planned."

Lisbon snorted. "So what else is new?"

He stopped and turned to face her. "Tell me about the gun."

"The gun?"

"You said you were mad about me asking to take your gun when I went after McAllister."

"You said you were going to use it as a prop," Lisbon said.

"Yes," Jane said. "I knew they wouldn't let me into the church without searching me. They'd never believe I would go in without a weapon, so I had to have one that I could give up, to make them relax and feel that they had the upper hand."

Lisbon's mouth turned down.

Jane watched her. "I don't get it. Of all the horrible things I've done to you, I wouldn't have expected that one to even register on the radar."

"You're a master pickpocket," she stated. "You could have gotten a gun off anybody for that. But you asked me for mine. You had to know it could be used as evidence against me once they processed the scene. It felt like you were giving me some kind of test."

He was silent for a long moment. "I…I think I was. I always coveted your trust, Teresa, even when I knew I didn't deserve it. But it wasn't a test of your loyalty, or anything like that."

She looked skeptical. "No?"

He shook his head. "I think somewhere, in the back of my mind, it was more a test for me than for you. I wanted to see if I had earned your trust, after all those years. No matter what happened, I wanted to take that knowledge with me to face whatever came next." His lips twisted bitterly. "A kind of parting gift for myself."

"A gift you gave yourself at my expense," she said harshly.

He closed his eyes. "Yes. I'm sorry."

"For that? Or the other stuff, too?"

"I'm sorry for all of it. I'm sorry for not telling you what I was doing in Vegas and for letting you worry about me all that time. I didn't think the con would work if you knew, and I wanted so desperately for the whole thing to be over. I thought if I gave up those six months, it would all be worthwhile because the chase would be finished at last at the end of it. But it turned out I miscalculated on that point. I'm… not proud of the things I did, then, or after. After the Vegas bit didn't work, I got desperate. I knew I had tipped my hand where you were concerned, and I was frantic to bring the whole thing to a close, to catch him before he could hurt any more people that I loved. I kept telling myself it would all be worth it, if I could just stop him. And the honest truth is that I'm still not entirely sure that was a mistake. Because as miserable as it was for both of us, at least you survived it. That was my nightmare, Teresa. That he would get you before I got him." He swallowed. "But don't think I discounted the cost. I hated every minute of hurting you. But to me, any price was worth it, as long as you survived, because I couldn't—" he choked a little. "I couldn't go on living without you."

"Jane," she said softly.

He dashed at his eyes with the back of his sleeve. "It really is as simple as that. I thought about you so much when I was on that island. I had two years to think about that 'meaning of life' type stuff and the only thing I knew at the end of it was that my life had no meaning or purpose without you. So I had to come back. I had to see you again."

"Why didn't you say anything?" she said, her voice pained. "Why did you drag me down to Texas and insist on working with me, and just…let everything go back to the way things were?"

He looked away. "Because I'm a coward. You were angry with me, justifiably so. I wanted us to find our footing again before I said anything."

"It was months, Jane. You couldn't have—" she stopped, emotion clogging her throat.

"I was a coward," he said again in a low voice. "I was terrified, Teresa. The idea of making myself vulnerable to someone, even you, scares me to death. And then Pike came along. He was clearly the better man, so I thought I should do the unselfish thing for once in my life and not interfere. But then I thought—after pretending to forget in that warehouse and then abandoning you that night in Malibu…you deserved to know how much you were loved. Even if you were going to leave with him, I wanted to give you that, at least."

She sighed. "Your communication skills suck, Jane."

"Granted," he said pathetically.

She looked at him. "You seriously didn't know I was going to stay until yesterday?"

He shook his head. "Nobody I asked knew anything for sure. I was afraid to ask Abbott. I figured he had to know because of some bureaucratic reason, but I was dreading the answer so much I couldn't bring myself to ask. And you were so upset after the Ridley case. You barely spoke to me. I thought you'd finally decided to wash your hands of me."

She sighed. "I was more upset with myself. Kidnapping a suspect and psychologically torturing him—that's not who I am, Jane. I compromised my principles because I knew your plan would work and we could save those girls. But I hated what I did to get those results."

"Because I persuaded you to," Jane said, upset.

She shook her head. "I wanted to blame you. I did, at first. I was so tangled up, trying to persuade myself I loved Marcus, and being afraid I might not be able to. When you told me you meant what you said all those years ago but still seemed to think I should go to D.C., it felt like you were trying to manipulate me again, just like that night in Malibu. I was hurt and angry. And then when the thing with Ridley went down, I was angry at myself. I wanted more than anything to turn all of that anger on you. I don't know, I think part of me thought that if I just got angry enough at you, the idea of leaving you wouldn't hurt so badly. And…I thought I had to leave. Staying and believing you didn't want me—I couldn't bear it anymore. I thought if I went with Marcus, I could come to love him, eventually. But that wasn't fair to Marcus. And in the end, I was the one who made the decision to help you."

"I wanted you," Jane whispered, his voice raw with pain. "You have no idea how much—" he inhaled sharply and appeared to lose the capacity for speech.

She looked at him inquiringly. "If you really didn't know… how'd you figure it out in the end?"

He looked at her, heartbreak in his eyes. "I saw him when you kissed him good-bye. He had the same look on his face at that moment that I would have had if you'd decided to leave."

"And despite all that, you were really just going to… let me go?" That had stung, more than she cared to admit.

He grimaced. "Well…"

She knew that look. "Out with it," she ordered.

"I may have concocted a scheme to revive a high profile cold case that was guaranteed to grind FBI bureaucracy to a halt and freeze all transfer requests," he said guiltily. "I had it all planned out. It was going to involve a secret code and three days in the Florida Keys at the FBI's expense."

"Yet again with the conflicting signals," she groused, taking another bite of her ice cream.

"I know," he said, shame-faced. "I'm sorry. Being unselfish really doesn't come naturally to me." He took a deep breath. "I truly am sorry for all of it, Teresa. Do you think there's any way I can possibly make it up to you?"

"I just want you to tell me the truth," Lisbon said, frustrated. "That's all I ever wanted."

"The truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?"

Lisbon rolled her eyes. "Yes."

"Okay." Jane looked at his ice cream cone. He'd been even less attentive to his cone than she had been to hers, and it had turned into a sticky, melted mess. He tossed the ice cream cone in a nearby trash can and turned to face her. He took her hand in both of his and pressed it to his heart. "Here it is." He looked into her eyes, his green-blue eyes clear and deep. "I meant it. I mean it. I love you. I'm in love with you. I want to make love with you. I want to—to throw myself at your feet and beg you never to even think about leaving me. I want to shower you with affection and hold your hand and kiss you every day for the rest of my life. And if you don't want those things, my heart might literally shrivel up and die in my chest, so I really, really hope that you do." His eyes pierced her. "What do you say? Do you think you could get on board with that?"

Lisbon's breath caught in her chest. She licked her lips, suddenly dry. "Uh, yeah," she managed. "Okay."

His face lit up. "Yeah?"

She nodded dumbly.

He brought the hand he'd trapped between his up to his lips and kissed her fingertips. He inched closer to her. "About this kissing thing," he began. "I feel the need to clarify."

Her brow crinkled in confusion. "You need to clarify kissing?"

"Yes. When I said I want to kiss you every day…"

Her eyes narrowed. If he tried to retract that sentiment, she was going to shoot him on the spot.

He kissed each fingertip in turn. "What I really meant was…once a day isn't going to cut it. I want kiss you hello when I see you after we're parted. I want to kiss you goodbye when we're about to part. I want to wake you up with a kiss each morning. I want to kiss you goodnight every night. And in between, I want to bend you over my arm and kiss you within an inch of your life every chance I get."

Oh, thank God. She relaxed. "Sounds like you're expecting a lot."

"Yes," he agreed. "I'm going to be very high maintenance. In fact, now that I think of it, I think I'm going demand a down payment of sorts. Let's say… twenty to thirty kisses a day for the first six months. Minimum."

Lisbon raised an eyebrow. "In that case, do I get an option to try before I buy?"

"I think that can be arranged," he said, stepping closer. He gathered her in his arms like an old-fashioned movie star preparing to ravish his starlet and bent his head to hers. His lips, cool and sweet, touched hers softly at first. Then his tongue, sweet and hot, found its way into her mouth. At the contact, he made a little noise in the back of his throat and pulled her closer. And then he proceeded to ravish her mouth so thoroughly Lisbon lost the capacity for rational thought.

All the intensity of her feelings for him, all the pain and heartache and laughter and affection fused together and zeroed in on all the points of contact between their two bodies, pressed together in the middle of the path. She swayed a little and kissed him back fiercely.

He pressed in on her, impossibly closer, and did this thing with his tongue—

"Oh, God," she groaned. "Where do I sign?"

His only answer was to slide his hands under her shirt and pull her hips tighter to him as he continued to devour her mouth.

Lisbon might have happily stayed there indefinitely, kissing Jane and not even caring that they were treating their fellow park-goers to a decidedly less than innocent display, but she was roused from her lust-soaked haze by the sensation of something cold and sticky dripping down the side of her wrist. Only then did she realize that she had been standing there with the rapidly melting remains of her ice cream cone awkwardly held out to one side while she buried her other hand in Jane's curls and kissed him so deeply she thought they might both drown in it.

At the sensation of the cool stickiness on her wrist, Lisbon made a small discontented noise and broke away. "Sorry," she muttered. She hastily disposed of the ice cream cone in the same garbage can where Jane had thrown his out, all without disentangling herself from him. Then she settled back into his arms as though she were afraid she might lose her claim to the location if she vacated the premises for too long.

Jane looked down at her with half-lidded eyes, looking slightly dazed. "Not a problem," he assured her. He took her hand and raised it, palm up, to his mouth. And then he touched his tongue to her pulse point and gave her wrist a long, slow lick.

The rasp of his hot tongue against the sensitive skin on the inside of her wrist sent a jolt of arousal straight through her.

She reached up on tiptoes and bit his lip, then twisted her hand in his and started dragging him down the path. "Come on."

"Where are we going?" Jane said, a little breathless as he hastened to keep up.

"Bed shopping," she said decisively.

xxx

Jane feebly tried to insist that he could pay for the mattress himself, but Lisbon wouldn't hear of it. She told Jane to shut up and handed the store clerk her credit card.

It was a little awkward to wrestle the bulky plastic wrapped package into the Airstream, and when they cut the plastic and the thing unfurled in the small space, it almost knocked her over. But three hours later, Lisbon thought to herself with satisfaction that the memory foam mattress had been worth every penny.

She'd pushed him down on top of it the minute Jane had gotten the sheets on, and they'd already made use of it three times in the handful of hours it had been in their possession. Four, technically, if you counted lying down in preparation to actually go to sleep. Which she supposed was the primary accepted use of a memory foam mattress, after all.

Now, she lay on Jane's navy blue sheets, her head on his shoulder, one leg thrown over his hip, and her hand over his heart. Jane lay with his eyes closed and a contented smile on his lips, lazily stroking his fingertips up and down her spine. She'd experienced few sensations more pleasurable in her life…most of them in the course of the past several hours.

She turned her head and kissed his shoulder, then rubbed her bare leg against his, marveling at this newfound closeness. She couldn't stop touching him. Judging by the way he tightened his hold on her and turned to kiss her on the forehead in response, the feeling was mutual.

"I love you," she murmured into his neck, burrowing closer.

He tipped her chin up and kissed her on the mouth. "I love you, too."

"God, it feels good to say that out loud, doesn't it?" she said in wonder.

He nuzzled her hair. "You have no idea."

"It's such a relief," she said. "I didn't know saying it would feel like this huge burden being lifted off me."

"We've been fighting it for so long," he said sadly. "Resisting it was sapping more of our energy than we knew."

She pecked him on the lips. "Here's to reclaiming our lost energy." She shot him a mischievous grin. "I, for one, can think of much better ways to put that energy to use."

He grinned back. "I support your energy reclamation proposal wholeheartedly."

"Glad to hear it."

He twirled a lock of her hair in his fingers. "I'd like to hear a little more about this proposal," he said. "So I'll know what kind of pitch to make when I'm circulating the petition."

She kissed his shoulder again. "Point one of my plan is to not try to argue myself out of loving you anymore. It's exhausting, and it's never worked. I'm giving up the strategy entirely and am just going to let myself be happy instead."

"Very reasonable," he said gravely. "I think I will follow your example and adopt a similar measure, myself."

"See, this is why we're good partners," she said, smiling into his skin. "We're always learning from each other."

"Mm," he said absently. His lips pressed together and his eyebrows contracted as though he were in pain.

Lisbon lifted her head and looked into his face searchingly. "What is it?"

He grimaced. "That's the thing. I haven't been a good partner to you. You've given me so much. When I think about what I've given you in return…"

"Well, you did buy me a pony," Lisbon said lightly.

"You said it yourself. I've lied to you, tricked you…" He shook his head. "I'm so afraid of losing you. To—to a stray bullet, to a better man. But when you stopped talking to me after the Ridley thing, it reminded me that one of the worst ways I could lose you would be just driving you away with my constant need to manipulate people, to manufacture illusions."

"Okay, point two in the plan is no second guessing the happiness with guilt and fear," Lisbon said severely. "I told you, I take responsibility for my own actions. I knew your plan with Ridley was a bad idea, but I went along with it anyway." She poked him in the side. "I'm not going to do that anymore, by the way."

"You don't want to be part of my plans anymore?" Jane sounded crushed.

She shook her head. "I'll help you with the normal, run of the mill crazy schemes. But I'm not going to compromise my integrity like that again."

"That's fair," Jane said quickly.

"I've been thinking about it, and I've come to a conclusion," she told him.

"What's that?"

"Well, we always did well back at the CBI when we argued over your crazy plans. Since you came back from your island, we've been so busy tiptoeing around each other that we haven't had any really good fights," she pointed out. "So we just need to keep fighting a lot, and everything will be fine."

"Huh," Jane said, bemused. "You know, I think that might actually work."

"You see? You're not the only one around here with brilliant ideas," she said in satisfaction.

He smiled a little. "I never doubted that for a second."

She snuggled closer to him. "So, what do you say? Think you can commit to fighting with me for the foreseeable future?"

He clutched her tighter to him. "With pleasure."


End file.
